Eight Hours
by tutncleo
Summary: Tony receives a letter. Part Eight in the "Home Is..." series. Tony/Gibbs pairing.


"**Eight Hours"**

_**The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.**_** Maya Angelou**

Gibbs sat on the easy chair in the den, a novel in his hands, surreptitiously watching Tony. Tony sat on the sofa, his legs drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around his calves, holding them in place, his chin resting on his knees, staring blindly at the television. He'd been in that position for over four hours, never bothering to surf from channel to channel, which was a clear indication that he wasn't really watching what was on the screen, because Tony could never watch just one show at a time. Unlike other people, Tony didn't use the commercial breaks to run to the bathroom or get a drink; he used them to check out what was happening on other stations; but today, the remote sat unused on the cushion next to him. Tony hadn't said more than two words during that whole time, either – yet another indicator that something was wrong. Tony was usually not just a spectator when watching television; he was normally a full participant - mouthing his favorite lines along with the actors, pointing out any foreshadowing or visual metaphors, supplying Gibbs with background from previous episodes he felt helped one understand the current situations, and offering commentary on the quality of the script writing, performances and camera techniques. Today he'd said and done nothing, not even bothering to change the channel when the _Magnum_ rerun ended, and an _Oprah_ rerun began.

Gibbs had learned early on not to push Tony when he got like this. It did no good, and only caused him to put on one of his carefully constructed masks, designed to hide whatever was bothering him behind an expertly painted facsimile of a carefree and happy Tony. Actually, it had taken a long time for Tony to feel comfortable enough with Gibbs to allow him to see the more vulnerable side of himself that he usually kept hidden from sight. The first time it had happened, Gibbs had tried to get Tony to tell him what was wrong, only to watch Tony transform into a plastic version of himself, and he didn't, to this day, know what had been bothering the younger man. The next time Gibbs had kept his mouth shut, ignoring Tony's moodiness, and finally, many hours later, Tony had started to talk, telling Gibbs about his friend from Peoria, who had died that day. Over time, Gibbs learned that Tony's dark days, as he'd come to think of them, were only precipitated by deeply personal issues. That wasn't to say that Tony didn't ever get upset by something that happened at work, or by everyday matters, but he didn't usually shut down over those. He might get angry or frustrated, but he'd usually work through that with physical exertion, or a nonstop verbal rant. When Tony withdrew into himself, it was a sure indication that something had hurt him deeply, tearing at the support walls of his psyche, leaving him feeling raw and overexposed. When that happened, he didn't want kind words or a soft touch, needing instead to be left alone as he tried to regain his perspective, after which he might or might not share what had been upsetting him. Gibbs thought it ironic that perhaps the most important indicator of a truly close personal relationship was the ability to recognize and accept when your partner was keeping secrets from you, because that required complete trust – the capacity to have faith in their judgment, secure in the knowledge that any secret they kept had no bearing on your relationship.

Gibbs didn't know why Tony was hurting, but he knew what had caused it. Everything had been fine earlier in the day. They had taken a long run before breakfast, and made lazy, easy, love in the shower afterwards, consumed by the simple pleasure being together provided, rather than the more urgent passion that often times spurred their lovemaking. Afterwards they had made their way to the kitchen, prepared a meal and discussed their plans for the day. The yard had been tended to, and the vacuum run. They were discussing the possibility of going to a movie, when Gibbs had set the mail on the kitchen table. Tony had thumbed through it, while talking about what was playing. When he got to one particular envelope he'd stopped, pulling it free from the pile. While Gibbs had listed his preferences, Tony had torn open the envelope and read the enclosed letter. His face had flushed as he read, and he abruptly excused himself, rushing for the guest bathroom off the living room, taking the letter with him. Gibbs had followed him part of the way there, but had settled into a chair in the living room after Tony had slammed the bathroom door shut. When Tony had emerged twenty minutes later, the letter no longer visible, he'd pleaded a headache, and said he just wanted to stay home and watch some television. That had been over four hours ago.

Finally Tony stood up. "Going to the bathroom," he said, as he left the room. Gibbs heard the door shut again, with less force than before, and looked at his watch – two o'clock. He heard the flush of the toilet and the sound of water being run in the sink, and then the quiet squeak of the door being opened. He walked slowly into the living room, timing his entrance to coincide with Tony's emergence.

"I'm going to make a sandwich. Do you want one?" he casually asked, as he passed Tony.

"Not hungry," Tony replied in an emotionless voice. "I'm going to the basement," he then added, as he followed Gibbs into the kitchen.

Gibbs watched Tony descend, as he pulled out the fixings for his lunch. After making himself a BLT from the bacon left over from breakfast, which he ate without really tasting, he went back to the den to shut off the television. Picking up the book he'd been reading that he had discarded when he'd gone to the kitchen, he marked his place and set it on the coffee table by the sofa. Then, switching off his reading light, he too, headed for the basement.

Tony was sitting, curled up like a cat, in the old upholstered rocking chair at the foot of the stairs, rocking slowly and looking at nothing in particular; he didn't bother acknowledging Gibbs when he entered the room. As he passed Tony, on his way to his work table, Gibbs could see the envelope for the letter tucked beside him on the chair. Gibbs picked up his sander, not trusting himself to try anything more complicated, and began to smooth the newest additions to his boat. Gibbs allowed himself to become lost in the repetition of movement, as his hands glided back and forth over the surface of the wood, knowing that Tony would get his attention if he wanted to talk.

Gibbs snapped out of his personal revelries when he sensed Tony approaching him. Wordlessly, Tony set the envelope on the boat, and returned to his chair. Gibbs snuck a glance at his watch – six o'clock. It had taken Tony eight hours to get to the point where he was ready to address the problem. Looking down, he noted that the letter had been forwarded to the house from Tony's old address, and when he glanced at the return address, he saw it was from Long Island. This was not going to be good. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the letter out, and began to read.

_Anthony:_

I hope this letter finds you well. I wanted to write and let you know, before you saw mention of it in the society pages, that I remarried last month. We have just returned from a month long trip around the world, my wedding gift to Sylvia. She is a lovely woman, and perhaps you will have the opportunity to meet her one day.

I regret being unable to invite you to the service, but it was held at St. Andrews, and since you have given me no reason to believe otherwise, I must only assume that you continue to insist on engaging in an "alternative" life style. I felt your presence would be disrespectful to the Church, and its teachings. It also spared both you and I from having to answer the inevitable embarrassing questions from business associates and family members about your continuing bachelorhood. I am sure you can understand that.

Please let me know if your status should change. In the meantime, please take care of yourself.

Your Father,

Anthony DiNozzo, Sr.

Resisting the urge to rip the letter to shreds, Gibbs slipped it back into the envelope and looked over to where Tony was sitting, watching him.

"That was quite the letter," Gibbs commented, carefully schooling his expression, and keeping his tone of voice as neutral as possible.

"Good thing I'm behind on reading my _Town and Country _issues, or I might have been in for a huge shock," Tony said sarcastically, sneering when he mentioned the well known fashion and gossip magazine society women read to keep track of their counterparts. "Of course, there are so many Mrs. DiNozzos out there, I might not have realized that Sylvia DiNozzo was a new addition," he followed with a bitter laugh.

Gibbs remained silent, knowing it wasn't the marriage that had upset Tony.

"What a hypocrite!" Tony spat out. "The church doesn't believe in multiple marriages either, but if you can grease enough palms and get them annulled, it's all okay."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow, encouraging Tony to continue.

"Guess you figured out that dear old Dad knows his progeny's tastes are a little more varied than his own. I believe his exact words to describe it were 'unnatural and perverted,'" Tony's voice was brittle, and Gibbs knew he was in danger of cracking into pieces.

"I take it you tried to discuss it with him once?" Gibbs broke his silence by asking.

"Oh no, we never discussed things in the DiNozzo household; that's not how it worked. He lectured and I listened." Tony paused before he continued. "No, he found out by accident, ironically enough, at another of his weddings. I think it was number three," and he was silent again, lost in the memory.

"Go on," Gibbs encouraged, not wanting to let Tony sink back into his silent world of private hurts and fears.

"I was a junior in high school, and had come home for the 'blessed event.' The whole family always rallied around. After all, back then there was still the possibility that one might actually stick. First and last time I met that wife. Actually, that was the last Mrs. DiNozzo I was ever subjected to. Probably just as well; it was getting to the point that I was almost the same age as them." Then he laughed, although there was no real humor in his voice. "I'm sure that by now, I'm quite a bit older than them."

Tony rarely spoke of his father, and he had never talked about why they shared no real communication. Gibbs suspected that was about to change. "What happened?" he prompted.

"I was a lot less careful back then, and I was bored. You don't always think clearly when you're that age. I didn't know most of the younger people at the wedding, since I went to boarding school, and there hadn't been any girls that really caught my eye. Unfortunately, I can't say the same for the boys. One of the men who worked for my father had brought his whole family, including his college aged son. We hit it off, and I was flattered that a college boy wanted to hang out with me. We were behind the pool house, his tongue shoved all the way down my throat when my father found us. Not exactly the wedding gift my father had been hoping for, I guess." Tony stopped talking, and started rocking again as he recalled what had happened. He gazed off in space, not looking at Gibbs when he resumed speaking.

"He shoved the boy off me and dragged me into the pool house. When we got in there he dropped his hands, as if touching me somehow contaminated him. I heard about what a disappointment I was, and how I disgusted him. He then proceeded to inform me that homosexuality was a sin, and that no son of his was going to be a pervert, and embarrass him in that manner. 'No son of his,' as if he had a few spares sitting around, ready to take my place. I snapped – told him I'd do what I pleased, and that he couldn't stop me. I called him out on the women and the booze; said he didn't have any room to talk. I'd never done anything like that before, and once I started, I couldn't seem to stop. He let me go on for a while, probably too stunned to say anything. No one ever disagreed with the mighty Anthony DiNozzo, Sr. Finally, he backhanded me so hard he loosened a tooth, and told me to go pack my bags – I was going back to school. Said he didn't want to see me again until I apologized, and could assure him that something like this would never happen again. That was over twenty years ago. Haven't seen him since."

Gibbs wasn't sure what to say. He'd known Tony's relationship with his father was strained, he just hadn't been aware it was this badly broken. "Have you talked to him?" he asked quietly.

"We communicate through letters, only when necessary. He made it clear that I wasn't welcome at any family events. I have no idea how he explained away my absence. For years he'd end each letter by asking me if I had considered what he'd said. I'd always start my response with, 'I'm still thinking about it.' Once I told him I was still sampling from both trees, trying to decide which fruit was sweeter. It's been awhile since he's asked."

Gibbs almost wanted to laugh. That was so typically DiNozzo, covering his hurt with a smart assed comment, even in a letter. He couldn't understand Tony's father. How could you cut yourself off from your only child, no matter what they did? Even when he had been so angry at the world that he'd shut his own father out, Jack had repeatedly reached out to him, and a part of him had known that he would always have a place to go if he needed it. How must Tony feel, knowing that his father didn't want him, was revolted by him?

"You didn't believe him, did you?" Gibbs needed to know.

Tony looked up at him. "At first I did. How could I not? It was years before I did anything with another man again. It didn't change the fact that I found them as attractive as women, but every time I thought I could do something about it, I'd hear my father's voice. By the time I was in my mid twenties, though, some of the sting was fading. I'd gotten used to being on my own, and was ready to risk letting that door stay closed permanently. The first time it happened, it was almost an accident. A wild party - too much to drink. Funny thing was, the next morning the world hadn't ended, and I felt just the same as I had the day before. Maybe a little sore, and a lot satisfied, but basically the same," he said with a small, but real smile. His eyes sought out Gibbs', boring into him, refusing to let them go. "I've never regretted my decision, Jethro, but it doesn't stop the letters from hurting. I'd just forgotten how much  
I'd missed, never seeing my family, not knowing what was going on."

"You have a new family now, Tony," Gibbs said, as he finally approached him and reached out to touch Tony's face softly.

Tony pressed into Gibb's hand, and then turned to kiss the roughened skin of the palm that encased his cheek. "That's what I finally realized," as he reached out, to draw the other man down to him. "I don't think I'm going to answer this one," he whispered, as Gibbs folded him into his arms.


End file.
